


Flowers of Flesh and Blood

by Soro



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soro/pseuds/Soro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They used to be great friends, but then he began to date her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers of Flesh and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing something like this. I know it's a sensitive subject, so hopefully I didn't butcher it. I feel like Ludwig is OOC, so sorry about that. I also am trying a new writing style, so it might be strange. (It was to me). If you could, let me know what you think of it. Thanks for reading!

They had known each other since they were nine. He had just moved from Germany, barely speaking English and only a brother for family. Alfred had been the kindest. Sticking with him though they could barely communicate. German and English were similar, and he could say he became fluent within a year. Alfred had never left his side. 

As they had aged, they had their awkward stages. He still got embarrassed thinking about his middle school self. They drifted, but never left. They had different interests, different friends, but they still got together every weekend to sleepover.

He was thirteen when he realized he didn't like girls, but boys. He didn't tell anyone out of fear. He was fifteen when he realized he liked Alfred more than a friend, but didn't act on it. When they were sixteen, Alfred got a girlfriend. At first, he thought he didn't like her because she was dating Alfred and tried to get along with her. He looked away whenever they kissed. When she cornered him in a hallway after school three months later and told him to "stay the fuck away from her boyfriend, faggot, or else", he stopped trying to get along with her.

He was a coward, scared of what she would do. It made him want to rip out his heart seeing Alfred's pained face each time he ignored him. They stopped getting together every weekend. But he watched from afar. Observed how Alfred became thinner, how he refused to wear anything that exposed his arms. Bruises began to from in places harder to hide. Alfred became clumsier, often accidentally punching himself when trying to open something.

It took two years. They were eighteen and getting ready to leave for university. They would all be gone within a month, he reasoned. Alfred looked surprised when he talked to him. His eyes were tired and had lost their vibrance. They quickly fell into old banter and jokes. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked how _she_ was. Alfred shrunk. She was talking about marriage after they graduated. Both of them wore a fake smile. Before he got to ask about the bruises and broken bones, she appeared. He matched her glare, but he didn't stop Alfred from taking her hand and leaving without a word.

That afternoon was nearly the same as the one two years ago. She cornered him after classes in a back hallway. She didn't say anything. Didn't give him a chance to say something. She slapped him hard across the face. When she backhanded the other side, he felt skin break under one of her rings. He was bigger than she was. Stronger. But he couldn't do anything to stop her. When she pulled her hand back to punch him, he merely closed his eyes. He felt his nose break. She left with another warning to stay away.

But when Alfred walked up to him as he was exiting they building with a small smile and a wad of tissues, he accepted them. He also accepted the offer for a rid to Alfred's place. Alfred's parents both worked in the medical field and were never home, and Gilbert would freak out if he came home with a still bleeding broken nose.

No one was there when they arrived. Nothing had changed from when he was last there from what he could see.

Alfred led him to the first floor bathroom. As he sat on the toilet and watched as Alfred washed his wounds and look up how to fix a broken nose, he realized he never stopped loving him. After learning they should wait ten days before seeing if his nose was bad enough to have to try to move it, Alfred leaned in to apply antiseptic cream and a bandage to the cut on his cheek. He could feel Alfred's breath on his lips. It didn't last long. Alfred helped him to his feet and apologized for her. He told him there was no need for that, she was in the wrong, not Alfred. He was asked if he wanted to stay a while longer. He didn't hesitate to say yes. Alfred smiled. It wasn't fake. 

It felt like old times as they climbed the stairs, backpacks slung over shoulders, to Alfred's room. Like the rest of the house, it had barely changed. Still pastel blue walls, nearly hidden by all the posters and photographs hung up. The photographs used to be of everyone Alfred cared about, used to be pictures of mainly the two of them. Now it was just pictures of her. He did his best not to look at them. The rest of the room was a complete mess, but Alfred would disagree and say everything was in its place. He always said that.

They sat on the bed, not talking, just doing what little homework they had. Eventually, he ended up on his back with Alfred resting with his head on his stomach and feet dangling off the side of the bed. Just like old times. He had missed this. They had opted to just lay and rest. He wanted to ask, about the blood and violets under his eyes, but he didn't want to disrupt what peace there was now. He was selfish. They heard someone come home and immediately go to their bedroom. He started to run his fingers through Alfred's hair and heard him sigh. 

The peace was disrupted by a phone ringing. Alfred got up. It was her, checking in. 

The call didn't last long, but by the end Alfred was tense and empty-looking. An unpleasant taste rose up in his mouth. He moved to place a hand on Alfred's shoulder, but he flinched and the hand paused. Apologies fell from both of their lips. He slowly moved closer to where Alfred was sitting and carefully wrapped his arms around him. Alfred returned the gesture and he felt like crying. Alfred still gave the best hugs. 

It took forever for them to break apart, and even then he keep his hands on Alfred's shoulders. He asked. How could Alfred stay with her? Alfred shook his head and looked away. 

They were disrupted again by a phone. This time it was his, his brother calling to make sure he wasn't lying dead somewhere. After he explained where he was and how he wasn't sure what time he would be home, he hung up. Alfred had pulled his knees up to tuck them under his chin and still refused to look in his direction. But when Alfred hesitantly reached a hand out to grab his, he felt as if he had won a battle. Now he just had to win the war. 

It had been dark a long time before Alfred turned to look at him, crying. The confessions came out in a tidal wave. Alfred thought that was how relationships were supposed to be, and he hated it. He wanted to leave her, leave everything. He was going to. He had been accepted to a university a few states away-it was actually close to where he, himself, would be attending school-and would be going there. Hopefully, she wouldn't follow him there. He was afraid and tired and just wanted everything to end. When the flood of words dried up, all that remained were choked-up sobs. Gingerly, he held his arms open and Alfred accepted the hug, burying his face in his chest. 

It was early morning when he dragged Alfred out of his room, out of the house. He didn't care where they went, Alfred needed to get away. For a little while at least. 

They ended up in a rotting abandoned house. It wasn't what he'd had in mind, but Alfred wanted to go there. A good portion of the roof was missing, allowing them to see the sky. 

It was the witching hours. The darkest time of the night. The floor was dirty and uncomfortable, but as he laid there with Alfred, holding his hand, he didn't care if he was laying in stale rodent dung. He was holding hands with Alfred. He really was selfish.

He looked over. Alfred was no longer crying, his face red and his eyes puffy. But he was smiling. Alfred was beautiful. What was the saying? People try to break anything that is beautiful? Well, they had really tried with Alfred. He had bruises all along his arms, now revealed from pushed up sleeves. The sight of them angered him. They didn't deserve to look like flowers painted his flesh. Flowers of flesh and blood. 

It would take Alfred years to get through this, perhaps he never would. But he knew he would never abandon him again. He would do what he could to help Alfred fight his demons. As he voiced this, Alfred's smile grew and his hand was squeezed. At that moment, he didn't care about her. He lifted their hands up and gently kissed Alfred's hand. Alfred didn't saying anything, didn't shake or flinch. Merely stared at him and asked a heartbreaking question.

"Is this what love is like?" It was a start.

 

 


End file.
